[fic] Hated chapter 1/2 [bad friends trio with fem!France, ensemble]
Title: Hated chapter 1/2
Author: etre_sans_age
Rating: R
Characters: Prussia, Spain, fem!France, America, England, Seychelles, Monaco, Ancient Rome, Russia, Belarus, Austria, Hungary, Denmark, ensemble; main pairings include Prussia/France/Spain, France/America, France/England, past France/Vietnam, past Rome/France, America/Russia, Hungary/Austria, Belarus --> Russia
Warnings: gakuen AU, sexual situations, adultery, school bullying
Wordcount: 4,096/8,225
Summary: for the prompt - Fem!France is the resident slut at school. She happily sleeps around with all the boys and then tells juicy details and teases everybody. She’s also proudly bisexual and a shameless flirt.
One day, a group of students (or just one) insult her and call her ‘worthless whore’, in front of the whole school, and give her a verbal lashing that hurts her deeply.
The other two (not genderbent) members of the Bad Touch Trio are out for blood and revenge, since no one insults their precious friend.
I am reposting with corrections and cast list. Thank you for reading.
The bottom edge of the steering wheel bumps against her lower back as Alfred grunts and thrusts away, and she has to arch a little more to avoid it digging into her spine. Alfred groans at the new angle, beautiful blue eyes screwed up as tightly as when she first claimed his virginity as a freshman, and Marianne laughs breathlessly as they continue fucking in his brand new sports car. He finally comes, shouting “OH SWEET LIBERTY!” much too enthusiastically, and she rides him hard for another minute before she reaches her own climax, sighing and shuddering in pleasure. His forehead damp with sweat, Alfred leans forward and nuzzles at her bared breasts, mumbling happily.
“We’re going to be late for first period, Alfred,” she murmurs, and groaning, Alfred releases her breasts to tug his slacks back up over his hips and buckle his belt. Marianne slides over to the passenger seat, hooking her bra closed and buttoning her shirt, and she gracefully accepts her black lace panties from where Alfred plucked it off the stick shift.
“Man, Kirkland is going to be so pissed,” Alfred says vaguely, although that hadn’t ever stopped him from messing around with Marianne before, and certainly won’t stop him now.
“Don’t mind Arthur, he is always like that,” Marianne answers, fixing her hair in the mirror and reapplying her lipstick. She turns to Alfred, straightens his tie and smoothing his hair down affectionately. “Let’s go, darling. And I promise I won’t distract you this time.”
She blows him a kiss after he drops her off at the front of the school. “Thanks for the ride, Alfred,” she tells him, and Alfred laughs and winks at her.
“Any time, babe!” The red sports car zooms off to find a parking spot before the bell, and Marianne saunters up the stairs through the front doors, returning the dirty looks the other girls give her with a smug smile of her own.
Well, if someone hadn’t written “slut” all over the windshield of her car, she wouldn’t have needed the most popular boy in school to pick her up. Those jealous kittens brought it on themselves, really.
“Hey, Marianne!” a familiar voice echoes through the hall, and she turns to find Gilbert and Antonio running to her side.
“Why didn’t you tell us you needed a ride to school?” Antonio asks, looking concerned. “We could have stopped by and picked you up.”
“Oh, but I didn’t want you to go out of your way. Alfred was in the neighborhood and offered me a ride.”
“I’m so sure he did,” Gilbert snorts, rolling his eyes.
Marianne lowers her eyelashes modestly, though her tone is playful. “But Gilbert, his car was so nice and fast, you should have seen it. Sleek, powerful… and, how you say, fully loaded? Mmm, my heart is still pounding from the way he drove!”
Antonio finally gets it, and he shakes his head, smiling at her audacity. “Well, text me next time you need a ride, Marianne, I’ll be sure to get there early. And we can take it slow, okay?”
“Sounds perfect,” she purrs wickedly, and the boys snicker, draping their arms over her shoulders as they head off to their first class together.
Before first period had finished, half the school already heard some form of rumor about her and Alfred, and in the girl’s restroom, Marianne regales Simone and Monica with the sordid details of her early morning tryst until they look ready to die of embarrassment.
“Marianne, you do know Alfred is taken?”
“Not at the moment, trust me.” She had it on good authority, Ivan being the one to tell her last week while she went down on him in the greenhouse. “Besides, I needed to pay him back, so I am sure neither of them would think too much on it.”
Simone chews at her lower lip, still too much in awe of Marianne to openly defy her, yet feeling the weight of responsibility on her shoulders. “But Arthur is not going to like hearing about this. You’re student council vice-president, Marianne, you are supposed to be setting a good example for the rest of the school!”
“I believe more of the student body could afford to follow my example, if anything.”
“Just the student body? I think you meant to include the faculty and staff and anything with two legs and a pulse with that,” Monica responds acidly, adjusting her glasses in a disapproving manner. “You are insatiable, Marianne, and your lustful ways will be your downfall.”
“I see one student right here who is in need of my amour,” Marianne sings out, and she traps Monica in her embrace in the next instant, one hand slipping under her uniform top to fondle her breasts. Cursing under her breath in French, Monica struggles to free herself, but her cheeks are red and she begins panting shamelessly as long, manicured fingers caress her inner thighs with experienced motions. Simone squeaks an excuse and flees the restroom, though it would take an excruciatingly boring algebra lesson to take her mind completely off of what had transpired.
The rest of the school day is uneventful, except for advanced chemistry, during which Marianne and her lab partner exchange texts that become more and more risque as the experiment went on, and Abel is left stuck at the bench until everyone leaves and he can take care of himself in the boy’s locker room. She would help him, of course, but she has a tutoring lesson after class, and so she promises to make it up to him at their next study session, and he swallows thickly and nods.
As it turned out, her student no longer needed tutoring, having gotten A’s on all of her latest French quizzes.
“Ma chere, it was a pleasure working with you. I would wish you luck in your studies, but I don’t think you need it,” she declares, and Vash’s little sister blushes pinkly from the praise. Elise thanks her and then rushes away, and Marianne does not miss seeing Vash himself across the hall, his glare as cold as glass. She blows him a kiss as well, and he scowls and stalks off after his sister.
It was time for the student council executive meeting, and she is sure she was supposed to have completed some paperwork, though she can’t be bothered to remember exactly what. Marianne strolls into the meeting room a few minutes late, and Arthur picks up right where the last meeting left off, yelling at her.
“Let me guess, you didn’t get the forms signed by the headmaster.”
“I did get them signed,” she retorts, “I just don’t have them with me.”
Simone saves her and pulls out the necessary papers from her bag, setting them on Arthur’s desk. Even though that matter was resolved quickly enough, they continue bickering through the rest of the agenda, until finally Simone is dismissed to contact the rest of the council members and inform them of their tasks.
Arthur waits until the door closes behind Simone and then looks up at Marianne.
“You should not have done that, frog.”
“And what is that?”
“Don’t be coy, you know what I am referring to.” Rubbing his eyes, Arthur sinks back into his chair. “You are going to get into a lot of trouble, playing the two of them like that.”
He is protective of Alfred, she knows, and still hasn’t forgiven her for luring him away with her charms, but he does not know Alfred anymore, not like she does.
“I have talked to the both of them, they are aware of what is going on. As far as I am concerned, I am actually helping them get back together.” They certainly were finding out what they had in common - losing their virginity to her for one thing.
“That may be so for Jones and Braginski, but what about the others?!” Arthur bursts out exasperatedly. “You have made out with nearly every male student I can identify, and not a few of the female students. And what is this about the headmaster, do I even want to know? For God’s sake, woman, control yourself!”
Flicking her hair over her shoulder, Marianne moves next to Arthur, leaning back against the edge of his desk. “But you wouldn’t like that, would you?”
“What?”
“You, dear Arthur, love being in control.” She smiles at him and continues in a husky, alluring voice. “If I am ever out of line, you gain such intense pleasure putting me in my place. I know it, I see the look in your eyes when I am late, when I leave the paperwork unfinished.” She uncrosses her legs with deliberate slowness, and Arthur’s eyes follow the movement like a hawk. “You want me to be bad, so that you can exert your authority, your dominance.”
“Wh-what are you talking about, you broad?” Arthur growls, but his throat is dry, and his voice cracks twice because it’s true, so true.
Chuckling sensually, Marianne lets her already too-short uniform skirt hike up even further. “How many times have you fantasized about punishing me since I walked in the door? Did you want to slap me? Bend me over your knee and spank me? Tie me up and take me until I scream your name?” Making sure he has a perfect unobstructed view, she slides a finger under the waistband of her panties, and lazily rolls the skimpy lacy material down her hips.
“Teach me a lesson, Arthur.”
“Fuck you, Marianne.”
She laughs again and begins pulling up her underwear, but Arthur’s hand on her wrist stops her.
“Take those off and lie back on the desk. And none of your stupid French this time.”
Gilbert and Antonio had been waiting for her after the meeting, and with a tired smile, she thanks them. Marianne feels worn out today, too drained to walk back home, and it had nothing to do with Alfred’s well-endowed self or Arthur’s roughness. The other two seem to understand without needing to be told, and she appreciates not having to explain herself.
With rather uncharacteristic gentleness, Gilbert helps her into the car, and Antonio hands her an iced coffee drink from her favorite shop, and they drive back to her place in silence.
“You gonna be okay?” Gilbert asks as they follow her into the empty house, and she has to stop and turn to look at him.
“I will be fine, Gil-bear,” she reassures him, attempting to put some much-needed vivacity in her tone. “Toni, tell him, I’m okay.”
Antonio glances at Gilbert, then meets her eyes. “Sure you are, but… you don’t mind if we hang around for a while, do you?”
“I would not mind, but let me change first. By myself, please.”
They grin and stay put in the living room as she makes her way to her bedroom. As soon as she can, she steps out of her shoes, then peels off her socks and blouse and skirt. She pauses and stares gravely at her reflection, at the girl in the mirror with the stylish mane of golden hair, the sleepy blue eyes, perfectly-sized breasts, long shapely legs - that lush, voluptuous body which had gotten her cat calls and leers and gropes by the time she turned thirteen, the body all the boys wanted and all the girls envied.
Even after she closes her eyes, she can still feel Alfred’s callused hands cupping her breasts, Arthur’s hipbones in between her thighs as he slams into her, and voices in her mind, shrill and accusing, call her out for what she is.
Slut. Whore. Tramp.
The bra and panties are promptly taken off and wadded up into the laundry basket, and Marianne emerges from the depths of her closet wearing a tank top and shorts, ready to start tonight’s dinner.
Hearing a commotion outside, Marianne glances out of her window to see Antonio and Gilbert, scrubbing the paint off her car’s windshield with a bucket and brush, stripped down to their undershirts, their slacks rolled up to their knees. She touches the small gold cross necklace at her throat, thanking the saints for such sweet friends, and runs down the stairs smiling.
“Hey, didya come out to see the gun show?” Gilbert calls out once she opens the door.
Marianne makes a show of looking around the driveway in confusion. “What guns, I don’t see any guns!”
“These babies right here,” Gilbert exclaims, flexing his bicep and pointing to it.
“Oh? But those are so puny, Gil, at least compared to Ludwig’s arsenal,” Marianne teases, knowing Gilbert hated to be reminded of how much more built his little brother was, and how thoroughly she got to appreciate Ludwig’s fine, muscular body last summer after her pool party. “Really, if you hadn’t pointed them out, I would have never noticed anything!”
Antonio bursts out into laughter while Gilbert glares at her and reaches for the garden hose on the ground. Shrieking, Marianne ducks behind Antonio, but they both get sprayed with a blast of cold water, and must retaliate by throwing a sponge at their attacker. By the time she has managed to turn off the water, they are all soaking wet, their sides aching from laughing too much.
The three of them troop into her room, grabbing towels to dry themselves off, Marianne already bragging about her latest conquests while Antonio and Gilbert grin and nod and try their best to not think up creative ways to castrate their rivals. She changes out of her wet clothes in front of them, offering the most tantalizing flashes of skin as she shimmies into a t-shirt and pajama pants, and even though they know she is just being herself, the boys watch appreciatively, until the heat from their bodies is nearly enough to dry their clothes.
She is still finishing her story when Antonio reaches out and pulls her close, Gilbert behind her and trapping her in his arms as well. Giggling, Marianne squirms in their embrace.
“Oh, you two are getting me wet again,” she exclaims in probably the most literal meaning of the word, but she does not object when they start kissing her, touching her in the ways she has taught them, back when they first thought their best friend might be nice to kiss. A soft moan escapes her mouth as she rocks back against Gilbert’s body, and Antonio seals up that sound with his lips pressed to hers.
Unfortunately for the boys, they were not able to get any further before the sound of the garage door opening heralded Marianne’s parents coming home. She gasps and slides out of their arms to go greet her parents, while Antonio and Gilbert hiss a frantic goodbye and clamber out the window and down the tree, getting into the car and pulling away with an ear-splitting screech, their boners immediately killed.
“Mama, Papa!” Marianne calls out, a little breathless. “Your classes ended early today.”
“Marianne Bonnefoy, did you have boys in your room?” her mother asks sternly, getting straight to the issue.
There was no point in lying, so she says, “Yes, Mama, Antonio and Gilbert, they just dropped me off-”
“Ah, the cute ones?” her father interrupts, looking interested in what she had to say for once. “I like them.”
“Euh, no, Papa, the ugly ones.”
“You should have asked them to stay for dinner, it would have been nice to have guests!”
Then her mother remembers that she forgot to buy groceries on the way home, and Marianne silently asks what she did to deserve such silly parents.
Tuesday, she gets to school without incident, though Alfred had seemed a little disappointed when she texted him to tell him she didn’t need a ride. That made her smile; at this rate, he and Ivan should get back together in two weeks, not even realizing how she had manipulated them.
At lunchtime, she meets Antonio and Gilbert on the rooftop of the school, the exclusive hangout for which they had kick several asses to claim.
While they eat, Gilbert asks her if she knew who could have graffitied her car. “I bet it was a ninja, one of the cool Asians,” he suggests around mouthfuls of sandwich.
“Why do you say that?” Antonio asks.
“Let me guess, you are thinking of Linh,” Marianne says glumly, picking at her salad.
“Yeah, I mean, she could still be holding a grudge after… you know.”
Marianne winces, remembering. It had been a messy break-up sophomore year, during which Linh had left her for the cool Asians clique, just one of the many disasters resulting from the impromptu school-wide popularity contest that spring semester.
“I would not put it past any of the girls. They hate me, even though I love them with all of my heart,” she concludes with a dramatic sigh.
“They don’t all hate you, Marianne,” Antonio pipes up encouragingly. “What about… what’s her name, Simone?”
“Simone is a freshman who moved here last year, Toni. She may be my sweetest friend now, but it is only a matter of time before she hates me, too.”
“But she doesn’t hate you now! And you can be sure we’ll always love you!” Antonio says, holding his arms out for a cheer-up hug. Laughing, Marianne moves over to hug him back, and Gilbert has to get in on the hugging action, too. It’s too bad lunch is so short, but they promise to hang out after school.
Marianne begins to suspect something is wrong during soccer practice. Not that any of the girls were close to being professional players, but she did not recall Laurie being clumsy enough to “accidentally” trip her six times over the course of thirty minutes, once sending her face first into the dirt. Yekaterina runs up to her and apologizes tearfully for not being able to defend her, and Marianne accepts her apology with as much cold dignity as she could summon. She doesn’t think they are acting on their own, though, so she swallows her anger and gets back up, wiping the dirt from her face.
After her shower, she pulls out her shirt from her bag and notices someone has helpfully written “whore” all over the back in lipstick, in case she had forgotten what they thought of her.
She has to wear a hoodie for her last class, and the English teacher, who had always hated her, sends her to the headmaster’s office for violating the dress code, even though half the class had worn non-regulation hoodies or jackets at one point in time and were never punished. Arthur smirks at her as she walks by his desk, and Marianne sticks her tongue out at him before slamming the door.
Some things have not changed. The coolness of his wedding band against her skin, the brush of the thin piece of gold up her stomach and over her breasts sending guilty thrills throughout her nerves. Whenever she is with him, she is fourteen years old again, dazzled and charmed by this older man who seemed so genuinely interested in what she has to say, and whenever he touches her, she becomes helpless, in his power.
Marianne holds out for the sake of her pride. She made it clear she no longer needs him or his gifts or money, and he should not expect any more favors from her. For a while, it seemed to work, but he has been making excuses to see her again, knowing she is considering offers from universities far enough away.
“Mister Vargas…” she murmurs, shifting in his lap helplessly.
“Are we not on a first name basis anymore, Miss Bonnefoy?” he asks with an indulgent smile, and rubs his thumb gently over her nipple. Not trusting herself to speak, she bites at her lower lip, and he interprets her silence as permission to take the nearest breast into his mouth, sucking at the soft skin greedily. Marianne endures the scratchiness of his stubbled chin against her breasts in silence, her fingers entwined into his dark brown curls, as if they were still in that hotel room where he first took her.
“You’re quiet today, my pet,” he says when he finally finishes with his teasing. “Tell me, won’t you miss me when you graduate and go to college?”
“No, not really,” she replies shortly, but he is chuckling and reaching under her skirt and stroking her through her panties, so familiar with her body after nearly four years, and she is unable to stifle a small, desperate moan.
“You will miss me after today,” he promises, and he easily lowers her onto the carpet, undoing his belt while she wriggles out of her skirt and underwear. He enters her eagerly, almost casually, looking much too proud of himself as she gasps and arches and digs her heels into his back. At least he isn’t too quick or rough, she is grateful for his experience, how he fucks her and lets her climax first before finishing with a satisfied groan, although she imagines that last is more for his ego than for her pleasure.
“Marianne…” he whispers, his voice soft yet commanding, and she looks up from zipping her hoodie closed. “Yes?”
“You have always been my favorite…”
They are too much alike, so she knows he is lying, saying what she would have said if she were in his position. But all she says is, “Goodbye, Maximus.”
Marianne pulls the hood of her jacket over her hair and sneaks out of the headmaster’s office and into the nearest girl’s restroom. Wetting a paper towel in the sink, she then dabs at her neck and her collarbone, scrubbing at her thighs, trying to erase the smell of his cologne from her skin, that lingering musky scent that marks her as his own. She can’t help but laugh under her breath as she does so, remembering the time Sadiq dragged her into a broom closet, how she knocked over a bottle of lemon disinfectant when he shoved her against the wall, and how they smelled citrusy fresh the rest of the day. Smelling like that would have been preferable, she thinks, throwing the paper towel into the trash.
The final bell rings, and she saunters out of the restroom, her hair arranged back into smooth flowing waves, her lips a glossy pink pout, no evidence remaining of her illicit activities just five minutes prior. Upon retrieving her books from the classroom, the English teacher hands Marianne two homework assignments due by the end of the week for her trouble.
Before she can leave the building in peace, Arthur catches her by the arm, and she nearly jumps out of her skin.
“What took you so long, Bonnefoy? I can’t imagine that you got lost on the way to the headmaster’s office, seeing how often you end up there.”
She understands what he really means, she could not miss the suspicion in his narrowed eyes, the loathing in his scornful tone, but she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing.
“It is none of your business, Kirkland, what the headmaster and I discuss,” Marianne says coolly, aware that the crowd of students have parted to make way for them, yet they are surreptitiously listening, ears straining. “Do you have something important to tell me or not?”
Arthur tightens his grip on her arm as he leans forward, and even though he is smiling that haughty British smile of his, his words are quiet venom in her ears. “I can’t believe you are still getting away with this. You make me sick.”
“Merci, I do my best,” Marianne replies just as softly, “for nothing makes me happier than to see you writhe and suffer.”
He releases her arm, glaring at her sternly, his voice a little louder. “Don’t dawdle so before the next meeting, please. We have a lot to finish before May, I am sure you do not need to be reminded of that.”
“I will keep that in mind, sourcils. I know you can’t get anything done without me,” she says, winking at him while he makes a rude gesture and stalks off angrily. The drama ended, the rest of the students seem to have dispersed, turning back to their cell phones and lockers and minor intrigues, but Simone and Monica hover by her side, curious despite themselves.
Marianne shoos them away. She has nothing she wants to gossip about today.
Country - Human Name
Liechtenstein - Elise
Seychelles - Simone
Monaco - Monica
Netherlands - Abel
Vietnam - Linh
Belgium - Laurie
Ukraine - Yekaterina
Ancient Rome - Maximus Vargas
Denmark - Bertram
Taiwan - Mei
( chapter 2)
Author: etre_sans_age
Rating: R
Characters: Prussia, Spain, fem!France, America, England, Seychelles, Monaco, Ancient Rome, Russia, Belarus, Austria, Hungary, Denmark, ensemble; main pairings include Prussia/France/Spain, France/America, France/England, past France/Vietnam, past Rome/France, America/Russia, Hungary/Austria, Belarus --> Russia
Warnings: gakuen AU, sexual situations, adultery, school bullying
Wordcount: 4,096/8,225
Summary: for the prompt - Fem!France is the resident slut at school. She happily sleeps around with all the boys and then tells juicy details and teases everybody. She’s also proudly bisexual and a shameless flirt.
One day, a group of students (or just one) insult her and call her ‘worthless whore’, in front of the whole school, and give her a verbal lashing that hurts her deeply.
The other two (not genderbent) members of the Bad Touch Trio are out for blood and revenge, since no one insults their precious friend.
I am reposting with corrections and cast list. Thank you for reading.
The bottom edge of the steering wheel bumps against her lower back as Alfred grunts and thrusts away, and she has to arch a little more to avoid it digging into her spine. Alfred groans at the new angle, beautiful blue eyes screwed up as tightly as when she first claimed his virginity as a freshman, and Marianne laughs breathlessly as they continue fucking in his brand new sports car. He finally comes, shouting “OH SWEET LIBERTY!” much too enthusiastically, and she rides him hard for another minute before she reaches her own climax, sighing and shuddering in pleasure. His forehead damp with sweat, Alfred leans forward and nuzzles at her bared breasts, mumbling happily.
“We’re going to be late for first period, Alfred,” she murmurs, and groaning, Alfred releases her breasts to tug his slacks back up over his hips and buckle his belt. Marianne slides over to the passenger seat, hooking her bra closed and buttoning her shirt, and she gracefully accepts her black lace panties from where Alfred plucked it off the stick shift.
“Man, Kirkland is going to be so pissed,” Alfred says vaguely, although that hadn’t ever stopped him from messing around with Marianne before, and certainly won’t stop him now.
“Don’t mind Arthur, he is always like that,” Marianne answers, fixing her hair in the mirror and reapplying her lipstick. She turns to Alfred, straightens his tie and smoothing his hair down affectionately. “Let’s go, darling. And I promise I won’t distract you this time.”
She blows him a kiss after he drops her off at the front of the school. “Thanks for the ride, Alfred,” she tells him, and Alfred laughs and winks at her.
“Any time, babe!” The red sports car zooms off to find a parking spot before the bell, and Marianne saunters up the stairs through the front doors, returning the dirty looks the other girls give her with a smug smile of her own.
Well, if someone hadn’t written “slut” all over the windshield of her car, she wouldn’t have needed the most popular boy in school to pick her up. Those jealous kittens brought it on themselves, really.
“Hey, Marianne!” a familiar voice echoes through the hall, and she turns to find Gilbert and Antonio running to her side.
“Why didn’t you tell us you needed a ride to school?” Antonio asks, looking concerned. “We could have stopped by and picked you up.”
“Oh, but I didn’t want you to go out of your way. Alfred was in the neighborhood and offered me a ride.”
“I’m so sure he did,” Gilbert snorts, rolling his eyes.
Marianne lowers her eyelashes modestly, though her tone is playful. “But Gilbert, his car was so nice and fast, you should have seen it. Sleek, powerful… and, how you say, fully loaded? Mmm, my heart is still pounding from the way he drove!”
Antonio finally gets it, and he shakes his head, smiling at her audacity. “Well, text me next time you need a ride, Marianne, I’ll be sure to get there early. And we can take it slow, okay?”
“Sounds perfect,” she purrs wickedly, and the boys snicker, draping their arms over her shoulders as they head off to their first class together.
Before first period had finished, half the school already heard some form of rumor about her and Alfred, and in the girl’s restroom, Marianne regales Simone and Monica with the sordid details of her early morning tryst until they look ready to die of embarrassment.
“Marianne, you do know Alfred is taken?”
“Not at the moment, trust me.” She had it on good authority, Ivan being the one to tell her last week while she went down on him in the greenhouse. “Besides, I needed to pay him back, so I am sure neither of them would think too much on it.”
Simone chews at her lower lip, still too much in awe of Marianne to openly defy her, yet feeling the weight of responsibility on her shoulders. “But Arthur is not going to like hearing about this. You’re student council vice-president, Marianne, you are supposed to be setting a good example for the rest of the school!”
“I believe more of the student body could afford to follow my example, if anything.”
“Just the student body? I think you meant to include the faculty and staff and anything with two legs and a pulse with that,” Monica responds acidly, adjusting her glasses in a disapproving manner. “You are insatiable, Marianne, and your lustful ways will be your downfall.”
“I see one student right here who is in need of my amour,” Marianne sings out, and she traps Monica in her embrace in the next instant, one hand slipping under her uniform top to fondle her breasts. Cursing under her breath in French, Monica struggles to free herself, but her cheeks are red and she begins panting shamelessly as long, manicured fingers caress her inner thighs with experienced motions. Simone squeaks an excuse and flees the restroom, though it would take an excruciatingly boring algebra lesson to take her mind completely off of what had transpired.
The rest of the school day is uneventful, except for advanced chemistry, during which Marianne and her lab partner exchange texts that become more and more risque as the experiment went on, and Abel is left stuck at the bench until everyone leaves and he can take care of himself in the boy’s locker room. She would help him, of course, but she has a tutoring lesson after class, and so she promises to make it up to him at their next study session, and he swallows thickly and nods.
As it turned out, her student no longer needed tutoring, having gotten A’s on all of her latest French quizzes.
“Ma chere, it was a pleasure working with you. I would wish you luck in your studies, but I don’t think you need it,” she declares, and Vash’s little sister blushes pinkly from the praise. Elise thanks her and then rushes away, and Marianne does not miss seeing Vash himself across the hall, his glare as cold as glass. She blows him a kiss as well, and he scowls and stalks off after his sister.
It was time for the student council executive meeting, and she is sure she was supposed to have completed some paperwork, though she can’t be bothered to remember exactly what. Marianne strolls into the meeting room a few minutes late, and Arthur picks up right where the last meeting left off, yelling at her.
“Let me guess, you didn’t get the forms signed by the headmaster.”
“I did get them signed,” she retorts, “I just don’t have them with me.”
Simone saves her and pulls out the necessary papers from her bag, setting them on Arthur’s desk. Even though that matter was resolved quickly enough, they continue bickering through the rest of the agenda, until finally Simone is dismissed to contact the rest of the council members and inform them of their tasks.
Arthur waits until the door closes behind Simone and then looks up at Marianne.
“You should not have done that, frog.”
“And what is that?”
“Don’t be coy, you know what I am referring to.” Rubbing his eyes, Arthur sinks back into his chair. “You are going to get into a lot of trouble, playing the two of them like that.”
He is protective of Alfred, she knows, and still hasn’t forgiven her for luring him away with her charms, but he does not know Alfred anymore, not like she does.
“I have talked to the both of them, they are aware of what is going on. As far as I am concerned, I am actually helping them get back together.” They certainly were finding out what they had in common - losing their virginity to her for one thing.
“That may be so for Jones and Braginski, but what about the others?!” Arthur bursts out exasperatedly. “You have made out with nearly every male student I can identify, and not a few of the female students. And what is this about the headmaster, do I even want to know? For God’s sake, woman, control yourself!”
Flicking her hair over her shoulder, Marianne moves next to Arthur, leaning back against the edge of his desk. “But you wouldn’t like that, would you?”
“What?”
“You, dear Arthur, love being in control.” She smiles at him and continues in a husky, alluring voice. “If I am ever out of line, you gain such intense pleasure putting me in my place. I know it, I see the look in your eyes when I am late, when I leave the paperwork unfinished.” She uncrosses her legs with deliberate slowness, and Arthur’s eyes follow the movement like a hawk. “You want me to be bad, so that you can exert your authority, your dominance.”
“Wh-what are you talking about, you broad?” Arthur growls, but his throat is dry, and his voice cracks twice because it’s true, so true.
Chuckling sensually, Marianne lets her already too-short uniform skirt hike up even further. “How many times have you fantasized about punishing me since I walked in the door? Did you want to slap me? Bend me over your knee and spank me? Tie me up and take me until I scream your name?” Making sure he has a perfect unobstructed view, she slides a finger under the waistband of her panties, and lazily rolls the skimpy lacy material down her hips.
“Teach me a lesson, Arthur.”
“Fuck you, Marianne.”
She laughs again and begins pulling up her underwear, but Arthur’s hand on her wrist stops her.
“Take those off and lie back on the desk. And none of your stupid French this time.”
Gilbert and Antonio had been waiting for her after the meeting, and with a tired smile, she thanks them. Marianne feels worn out today, too drained to walk back home, and it had nothing to do with Alfred’s well-endowed self or Arthur’s roughness. The other two seem to understand without needing to be told, and she appreciates not having to explain herself.
With rather uncharacteristic gentleness, Gilbert helps her into the car, and Antonio hands her an iced coffee drink from her favorite shop, and they drive back to her place in silence.
“You gonna be okay?” Gilbert asks as they follow her into the empty house, and she has to stop and turn to look at him.
“I will be fine, Gil-bear,” she reassures him, attempting to put some much-needed vivacity in her tone. “Toni, tell him, I’m okay.”
Antonio glances at Gilbert, then meets her eyes. “Sure you are, but… you don’t mind if we hang around for a while, do you?”
“I would not mind, but let me change first. By myself, please.”
They grin and stay put in the living room as she makes her way to her bedroom. As soon as she can, she steps out of her shoes, then peels off her socks and blouse and skirt. She pauses and stares gravely at her reflection, at the girl in the mirror with the stylish mane of golden hair, the sleepy blue eyes, perfectly-sized breasts, long shapely legs - that lush, voluptuous body which had gotten her cat calls and leers and gropes by the time she turned thirteen, the body all the boys wanted and all the girls envied.
Even after she closes her eyes, she can still feel Alfred’s callused hands cupping her breasts, Arthur’s hipbones in between her thighs as he slams into her, and voices in her mind, shrill and accusing, call her out for what she is.
Slut. Whore. Tramp.
The bra and panties are promptly taken off and wadded up into the laundry basket, and Marianne emerges from the depths of her closet wearing a tank top and shorts, ready to start tonight’s dinner.
Hearing a commotion outside, Marianne glances out of her window to see Antonio and Gilbert, scrubbing the paint off her car’s windshield with a bucket and brush, stripped down to their undershirts, their slacks rolled up to their knees. She touches the small gold cross necklace at her throat, thanking the saints for such sweet friends, and runs down the stairs smiling.
“Hey, didya come out to see the gun show?” Gilbert calls out once she opens the door.
Marianne makes a show of looking around the driveway in confusion. “What guns, I don’t see any guns!”
“These babies right here,” Gilbert exclaims, flexing his bicep and pointing to it.
“Oh? But those are so puny, Gil, at least compared to Ludwig’s arsenal,” Marianne teases, knowing Gilbert hated to be reminded of how much more built his little brother was, and how thoroughly she got to appreciate Ludwig’s fine, muscular body last summer after her pool party. “Really, if you hadn’t pointed them out, I would have never noticed anything!”
Antonio bursts out into laughter while Gilbert glares at her and reaches for the garden hose on the ground. Shrieking, Marianne ducks behind Antonio, but they both get sprayed with a blast of cold water, and must retaliate by throwing a sponge at their attacker. By the time she has managed to turn off the water, they are all soaking wet, their sides aching from laughing too much.
The three of them troop into her room, grabbing towels to dry themselves off, Marianne already bragging about her latest conquests while Antonio and Gilbert grin and nod and try their best to not think up creative ways to castrate their rivals. She changes out of her wet clothes in front of them, offering the most tantalizing flashes of skin as she shimmies into a t-shirt and pajama pants, and even though they know she is just being herself, the boys watch appreciatively, until the heat from their bodies is nearly enough to dry their clothes.
She is still finishing her story when Antonio reaches out and pulls her close, Gilbert behind her and trapping her in his arms as well. Giggling, Marianne squirms in their embrace.
“Oh, you two are getting me wet again,” she exclaims in probably the most literal meaning of the word, but she does not object when they start kissing her, touching her in the ways she has taught them, back when they first thought their best friend might be nice to kiss. A soft moan escapes her mouth as she rocks back against Gilbert’s body, and Antonio seals up that sound with his lips pressed to hers.
Unfortunately for the boys, they were not able to get any further before the sound of the garage door opening heralded Marianne’s parents coming home. She gasps and slides out of their arms to go greet her parents, while Antonio and Gilbert hiss a frantic goodbye and clamber out the window and down the tree, getting into the car and pulling away with an ear-splitting screech, their boners immediately killed.
“Mama, Papa!” Marianne calls out, a little breathless. “Your classes ended early today.”
“Marianne Bonnefoy, did you have boys in your room?” her mother asks sternly, getting straight to the issue.
There was no point in lying, so she says, “Yes, Mama, Antonio and Gilbert, they just dropped me off-”
“Ah, the cute ones?” her father interrupts, looking interested in what she had to say for once. “I like them.”
“Euh, no, Papa, the ugly ones.”
“You should have asked them to stay for dinner, it would have been nice to have guests!”
Then her mother remembers that she forgot to buy groceries on the way home, and Marianne silently asks what she did to deserve such silly parents.
Tuesday, she gets to school without incident, though Alfred had seemed a little disappointed when she texted him to tell him she didn’t need a ride. That made her smile; at this rate, he and Ivan should get back together in two weeks, not even realizing how she had manipulated them.
At lunchtime, she meets Antonio and Gilbert on the rooftop of the school, the exclusive hangout for which they had kick several asses to claim.
While they eat, Gilbert asks her if she knew who could have graffitied her car. “I bet it was a ninja, one of the cool Asians,” he suggests around mouthfuls of sandwich.
“Why do you say that?” Antonio asks.
“Let me guess, you are thinking of Linh,” Marianne says glumly, picking at her salad.
“Yeah, I mean, she could still be holding a grudge after… you know.”
Marianne winces, remembering. It had been a messy break-up sophomore year, during which Linh had left her for the cool Asians clique, just one of the many disasters resulting from the impromptu school-wide popularity contest that spring semester.
“I would not put it past any of the girls. They hate me, even though I love them with all of my heart,” she concludes with a dramatic sigh.
“They don’t all hate you, Marianne,” Antonio pipes up encouragingly. “What about… what’s her name, Simone?”
“Simone is a freshman who moved here last year, Toni. She may be my sweetest friend now, but it is only a matter of time before she hates me, too.”
“But she doesn’t hate you now! And you can be sure we’ll always love you!” Antonio says, holding his arms out for a cheer-up hug. Laughing, Marianne moves over to hug him back, and Gilbert has to get in on the hugging action, too. It’s too bad lunch is so short, but they promise to hang out after school.
Marianne begins to suspect something is wrong during soccer practice. Not that any of the girls were close to being professional players, but she did not recall Laurie being clumsy enough to “accidentally” trip her six times over the course of thirty minutes, once sending her face first into the dirt. Yekaterina runs up to her and apologizes tearfully for not being able to defend her, and Marianne accepts her apology with as much cold dignity as she could summon. She doesn’t think they are acting on their own, though, so she swallows her anger and gets back up, wiping the dirt from her face.
After her shower, she pulls out her shirt from her bag and notices someone has helpfully written “whore” all over the back in lipstick, in case she had forgotten what they thought of her.
She has to wear a hoodie for her last class, and the English teacher, who had always hated her, sends her to the headmaster’s office for violating the dress code, even though half the class had worn non-regulation hoodies or jackets at one point in time and were never punished. Arthur smirks at her as she walks by his desk, and Marianne sticks her tongue out at him before slamming the door.
Some things have not changed. The coolness of his wedding band against her skin, the brush of the thin piece of gold up her stomach and over her breasts sending guilty thrills throughout her nerves. Whenever she is with him, she is fourteen years old again, dazzled and charmed by this older man who seemed so genuinely interested in what she has to say, and whenever he touches her, she becomes helpless, in his power.
Marianne holds out for the sake of her pride. She made it clear she no longer needs him or his gifts or money, and he should not expect any more favors from her. For a while, it seemed to work, but he has been making excuses to see her again, knowing she is considering offers from universities far enough away.
“Mister Vargas…” she murmurs, shifting in his lap helplessly.
“Are we not on a first name basis anymore, Miss Bonnefoy?” he asks with an indulgent smile, and rubs his thumb gently over her nipple. Not trusting herself to speak, she bites at her lower lip, and he interprets her silence as permission to take the nearest breast into his mouth, sucking at the soft skin greedily. Marianne endures the scratchiness of his stubbled chin against her breasts in silence, her fingers entwined into his dark brown curls, as if they were still in that hotel room where he first took her.
“You’re quiet today, my pet,” he says when he finally finishes with his teasing. “Tell me, won’t you miss me when you graduate and go to college?”
“No, not really,” she replies shortly, but he is chuckling and reaching under her skirt and stroking her through her panties, so familiar with her body after nearly four years, and she is unable to stifle a small, desperate moan.
“You will miss me after today,” he promises, and he easily lowers her onto the carpet, undoing his belt while she wriggles out of her skirt and underwear. He enters her eagerly, almost casually, looking much too proud of himself as she gasps and arches and digs her heels into his back. At least he isn’t too quick or rough, she is grateful for his experience, how he fucks her and lets her climax first before finishing with a satisfied groan, although she imagines that last is more for his ego than for her pleasure.
“Marianne…” he whispers, his voice soft yet commanding, and she looks up from zipping her hoodie closed. “Yes?”
“You have always been my favorite…”
They are too much alike, so she knows he is lying, saying what she would have said if she were in his position. But all she says is, “Goodbye, Maximus.”
Marianne pulls the hood of her jacket over her hair and sneaks out of the headmaster’s office and into the nearest girl’s restroom. Wetting a paper towel in the sink, she then dabs at her neck and her collarbone, scrubbing at her thighs, trying to erase the smell of his cologne from her skin, that lingering musky scent that marks her as his own. She can’t help but laugh under her breath as she does so, remembering the time Sadiq dragged her into a broom closet, how she knocked over a bottle of lemon disinfectant when he shoved her against the wall, and how they smelled citrusy fresh the rest of the day. Smelling like that would have been preferable, she thinks, throwing the paper towel into the trash.
The final bell rings, and she saunters out of the restroom, her hair arranged back into smooth flowing waves, her lips a glossy pink pout, no evidence remaining of her illicit activities just five minutes prior. Upon retrieving her books from the classroom, the English teacher hands Marianne two homework assignments due by the end of the week for her trouble.
Before she can leave the building in peace, Arthur catches her by the arm, and she nearly jumps out of her skin.
“What took you so long, Bonnefoy? I can’t imagine that you got lost on the way to the headmaster’s office, seeing how often you end up there.”
She understands what he really means, she could not miss the suspicion in his narrowed eyes, the loathing in his scornful tone, but she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing.
“It is none of your business, Kirkland, what the headmaster and I discuss,” Marianne says coolly, aware that the crowd of students have parted to make way for them, yet they are surreptitiously listening, ears straining. “Do you have something important to tell me or not?”
Arthur tightens his grip on her arm as he leans forward, and even though he is smiling that haughty British smile of his, his words are quiet venom in her ears. “I can’t believe you are still getting away with this. You make me sick.”
“Merci, I do my best,” Marianne replies just as softly, “for nothing makes me happier than to see you writhe and suffer.”
He releases her arm, glaring at her sternly, his voice a little louder. “Don’t dawdle so before the next meeting, please. We have a lot to finish before May, I am sure you do not need to be reminded of that.”
“I will keep that in mind, sourcils. I know you can’t get anything done without me,” she says, winking at him while he makes a rude gesture and stalks off angrily. The drama ended, the rest of the students seem to have dispersed, turning back to their cell phones and lockers and minor intrigues, but Simone and Monica hover by her side, curious despite themselves.
Marianne shoos them away. She has nothing she wants to gossip about today.
Country - Human Name
Liechtenstein - Elise
Seychelles - Simone
Monaco - Monica
Netherlands - Abel
Vietnam - Linh
Belgium - Laurie
Ukraine - Yekaterina
Ancient Rome - Maximus Vargas
Denmark - Bertram
Taiwan - Mei
( chapter 2)